Dancing
by a red door painted black
Summary: "What's the matter?" Claire asked. "Don't tell you've never *danced* before." STEVExCLAIRE FLUFF AHOY, MATEYS!


**Dancing** is rated **K+** for **brief strong language**.

_Shiver me timbers, an update! I've been wanting to do a SxC one-shot for a while, and I finally sat my butt down long enough to write one. So here it is. I feel kinda "eh" about it in some parts, so I'll probably go back and edit it at a later date. But for now, enjoy the SxC fluffiness!_

* * *

**DANCING**

Smoke saturated the darkened room like fog. That's what it seemed like to Steve, anyways. Of course, he could smell someone taking a piss at the other end of the house now, so that probably didn't help. Rubbing his nose, he glanced across the table at Claire. She didn't look bothered by the stench; on the contrary, she looked enraptured. Steve followed her glazed stare to her brother Chris and his partner (yeah, right, "partner") Jill in the middle of the floor. They had one hand on the other's waist and one hand clasped in the other's hand, and they were swinging to an old Bon Jovi song. Steve chuckled. They looked like a couple of dorks. Judging by how they kept laughing, they knew it, too.

Claire snickered, and Steve looked over to see her take a sip from her beer. Grasping his own untouched bottle, he took a drink and immediately choked on it.

"What the matter?" she asked. "Is it warm?"

Swallowing, he answered, "No."

She must've understood his meaning, because she said, "It's an acquired taste."

"Yeah, I get that," he replied, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I keep forgetting, you've never experienced any of this, have you?" Claire asked. Before he could answer, she continued. "You've never been in a bar or had a drink or—"

"I had some of my friend's parents' wine one time," Steve said. "It tasted like vinegar."

"Also an acquired taste," Claire laughed. Then she grew serious again. "Have you ever had a job?"

He shook his head. "No."

"What about a car? Did you get your license?"

"I never had a car. I had my license, but it expired in two-thousand and two."

"What about a girlfriend?"

Blushing, he glared down at the bottle, wondering why she would ask him that. Didn't she remember he told her he loved her all those years ago? Floating comatose in a tank for fifteen years hadn't made _him_ forget.

"Just a couple back in high school," he answered with a shrug. "Nothing major."

Claire gazed at him peculiarly. Steve couldn't tell if she was studying him or if she was debating asking him something, but he did know it made him uncomfortable. Choking down a few gulps of beer, he turned his attention to Chris and Jill.

"So how long've they been together?" he asked.

"They're not actually "together,"" Claire replied. When Steve shot her an unscrupulous look, she grinned. "They were partners in S.T.A.R.S. when everything happened, and they stayed together after the S.T.A.R.S. were disbanded. When Jill disappeared, it really tore him up."

As Steve and Claire watched, a rock ballad started. Chris and Jill pulled closer, their arms wounding around each other. The couple twisted, and Steve got a good look at Jill's face. It was practically_ glowing_, she looked so fucking happy. Glaring, he chugged half his beer, too distracted by his sudden resentment to notice the bitter taste.

He knew he shouldn't feel that way towards Jill—she wasthe one who had led the B.S.A.A. to the lab Wesker had kept him in all those years—but…well, it was hard _not_ to, not when she stood there like a totally _normal_ person. Jill had gotten cured; she'd gotten Chris; she'd gotten her life back. Steve was still infected. He couldn't reclaim his identity because coming forward would lead Tricell straight to him and the others. And Claire…he didn't know what the hell he'd thought would happen when he, Chris, and Jill had gotten back to the States. Probably that Claire would throw herself into his arms and proclaim her undying love to him, and then they'd live happily ever after, or some other dumb, naïve notion…

"Steve?" Claire said.

His head snapped up. "Huh?"

"What's wrong?"

"Nothing."

"You look like something's bothering you."

"Oh. It's nothing," he said, shrugging.

"Are you thinking about…?" She trailed off.

Steve knew immediately what she was asking. "A little."

Claire frowned. "Don't think about it. It's over now."

"Yeah. I know."

She was giving him that peculiar look again. And it still made him uncomfortable, even more so now. Taking another sip, he grimaced and glanced at the bar. Most of the stools were empty. Overhead, neon signs for liquor brands glowed pink, casting a sleepy sheen on the bar counter. His eye caught Jill and Chris again, and he quickly looked to the flyers taped upon the front window. One of them read, "HAPPINESS IS APPRECIATING WHAT YOU HAVE, NOT WHAT YOU WANT." He glowered at it.

"Oh, I love this song," Claire suddenly said.

Steve's eyes snapped around, and he saw Claire smiling and staring back. A dreamy look glossed her eyes.

"My mom had the CD, and we used to listen to it all the time in the car," she continued. "It drove Chris and our dad_ insane_."

Perking his eyes, Steve caught a single, soft guitar melody.

"I think I remember this song." After a thought, he added, "Doesn't seem like the type of song this place would have on its play list."

Claire laughed. Then she grew somber, that lost look returning to her eyes..

"You…wouldn't want to dance, would you?"

Steve's face suddenly became hot. She must've noticed, too, because she giggled, and he felt his face grow hotter.

"What's the matter?" she asked. "Don't tell you've never _danced _before."

"Of course I've danced before. It's just been a while."

"I haven't danced in a while, either." When he didn't say anything, she reached over the table and grabbed his hand. "Come on. It'll be fun."

He swallowed. "Okay."

Before he knew it, she had yanked him to his feet and was leading him to the jukebox. There, the obnoxious smoke thickened, and Steve felt his eyes water up. Choking, he clamped his hand over his nose.

Claire gave him an apologetic look. "Oh, I forgot. Let's move next to the door."

He nodded and let her pull him to the front of the bar. It was thankfully clearer. Shaking his head, Steve rubbed the tears out of his eyes. Then Claire slipped her hands onto his shoulders. The scent of her perfume, honeydew and daisies, sifted through his nostrils. Clumsily, he placed his hands on her hips. His face was still burning, and he knew it had to be beet red. His face always turned red when he felt embarrassed or anxious, and right now he felt both.

Claire began swaying gently, and Steve took that as his cue to do the same. If he thought Chris and Jill looked like dorks, he was sure he looked like one. His rhythm was completely off, and he couldn't seem to find it. Claire, on the hand, had found it just fine. She seemed to be handling this much better—more adult-like—than he was.

He cleared his throat. "Er, what's the name of this song?"

"It's Cyndi Lauper's "Time After Time,"" Claire answered. For some dumb reason, he couldn't look her in the eye. "This version has Sarah MacLachlan on it."

He tried to smile, but it felt like some distorted version of a smile instead. Dammit, he was thirty-two now; fifteen-year-long cryogenic sleep or not, he shouldn't be acting like some seventh grader at his first school dance.

Glancing up at the neon signs, he said, "Sarah MacLachlan? I think I remember her. She did that…one song that was…really popular…"

"Steve." Steve forced himself to look at her. "Relax. We're just dancing."

"Sorry," he said. "It's just, I haven't danced with anybody since my junior prom."

"I haven't danced with anybody since my senior prom, so I guess that makes two of us," she replied, smiling softly.

Steve felt his face cool. He smiled back, and this time it felt like a real smile.

The song thrummed on. Steve still couldn't find the rhythm, but he was close enough. As long as Claire didn't mind, he didn't mind. And Claire didn't seem to mind at all. She just gazed up at him, her eyes sparkling like two beautiful, blue gemstones, her smile as sweet as her perfume. Her skin seemed to glow in the light of the neon signs, and she had that far-off look in her eyes again. Instead of discomfort, he felt kind of…far-off himself.

Suddenly, her hands slipped off his shoulders. Wrapping her arms around his, Claire clutched the back of his shirt. She pulled him close and rested her head on his shoulder. Inside his chest, Steve's own heart was beating so furiously he was sure she could hear it. He certainly could.

Before he could wonder what she was doing, Claire breathed deeply into his shoulder.

"Steve?"

He didn't answer.

"I'm so happy you're alive."

A hot blush crept across his face again. He didn't say anything at first; instead, he slowly slid his hands up and wound his arms around her warm body. As Claire's heart patted against his chest, Steve forgot why he had ever hated Jill.

Nuzzling Claire's hair, he whispered, "Me, too."

**END.**

"_When you're lost, you can look, and you will find me  
__Time after time,  
__If you fall, I will catch you; I'll be waiting  
__Time after time"_

* * *

_*"Time After Time" lyrics are property of Cyndi Lauper (and I guess Sarah Maclachlan now, too)._


End file.
